


Lost Stars

by Coffeetailor



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:37:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeetailor/pseuds/Coffeetailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, England made a deal with the dark fairies that they would only take children that had been lost and abandoned to keep them from stealing them from his villagers. In exchange, they were allowed to take one thing that he would love and lose in the future. And now they've come to collect, and the price is much steeper than anyone could have predicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Another one was gone. Albion could feel it the moment he laid eyes on the tiny village, the women all gathered around one of the mothers, children kept close at hand. The men were nowhere to be seen. In the woods, searching. They were all hoping that little footprints would merely lead to a misbehaving child, and not finish in an empty mushroom ring. Again.

That would make six year-old Mary the eighth child to have been spirited away from the neighboring villagers in the past three weeks. And Albion was feeling the loss already. Adults went to war and died all the time, but his children were his future. If they all vanished before they had a chance to grow up, so would he. And what was worse was that he could feel the chilly tingle of unsidhe magic in the air along the path leading to and from the village. The missing children wouldn't be coming back.

"You! Where are our children!?"

The green eyed child looked up at the village headwoman as she came over, wrinkles even harsher on her face than usual due to stress. He could not blame her. If his face were closer to his age in years, he might look like that too, because he felt the same stress in his heart.

"We've all seen you talking to the fairies, unaging one," the woman said, stopping a distance from him. Maybe she was one of those who thought he might be one of them too. "And we knew they're the ones luring our babies away from the beds in the night!"

"It's not the ones who play with me doing this!" Albion protested, his eyes wide under bushy eyebrows. Did they really think mint bunny and the others were responsible? They lived off the carefree joy of children; they wouldn't take them from their families. "They're summer fairies! My friends are the good ones!"

The old woman went down onto her knees to grap the small nation's shoulders. Albion could see the worry in her eyes and he felt for her grief. "Then where are the children? If they didn't take them, then who did? _Who_ has our babies?"

"...the pathway feels like winter fairies came through recently," Albion said softly after debating for a moment. He didn't usually talk about them to humans. Most villagers got nervous enough when they realized that he was living nearby, an unaging child who played about with fairies and other creatures. "They might have the children."

There was no might about it, he knew. But a might could give her hope for a little longer, and that was worth lying to her. Looking at the headwoman and seeing her, knowing that the first one to vanish had been her only granddaughter who had brought her red flowers the last spring and smiled at her with two teeth missing, Albion knew that he would have to seek out the winter fairies, no matter that he usually tried to stay away from them. How could he do anything else but try and help his people. Even if he couldn't bring back the stolen children, he could try and stop more from vanishing.

_'Albion... Albion... Come with us!'_

He jerked his head back towards the woods, spotting the bright little glows that meant his fairies were there, and took a step back from the headwoman. "I've got to go now. I'll do what I can, I promise."

Albion dashed for the path before the headwoman could protest, her hand still outstretched to pull him back as she spotted the fairies and moved automatically to protect even this strange child. But they were soon out of sight of the village as the path wound into the woods in a somewhat tangled mess, their ancestors knowing better than to chop down the fairies' trees. Passing through them was trying enough as it was.

_'We saw where they went,'_ the little fairies said, flying around him as he hurried down the path, following their lead. _'We'll take you there, but we can't stay.'_

"I know, it's alright," Albion said with a nod. He knew the two courts didn't get along, and a child thief would be a dangerous person for the little fairies who kept him company to meet. He didn't want his friends eaten or worse. "You taught me enough to keep them from touching me."

They stopped just short of the crossroads where the path split up into five, one towards each village in the area. But there were no farmers or traders crossing through there tonight. No, there was something much worse, and it took effort not to call the fairies back to him as they fled into the safety of the trees.

"What's this, another little child who wants to come play with us?" the tall, brightly dressed man said, a pipe held in one hand a lips smiling despite the utter coldness in his eyes. He spoke with a parody of the Frankish language. Human looking, but one could not fool someone like Albion into thinking he was really mortal. "Are you looking for your friends, little one? I'll take you to them. We're throwing a grand party with cakes and music and joy."

"I know you, child thief," Albion said, standing firm and not letting himself be tempted. "Fae are not allowed to take children from their beds! You know the laws!"

The man's laugh was mocking, pipe twirled in his fingers. "Aw, you're the spirit of this land then? I was wondering if I'd meet you. I don't take the little ones from their beds, they walk right out to me. Sweet little morsels that they are."

The young nation kept himself from showing his fear out of sheer force of will. Somehow, he knew that the fae in front of him wasn't speaking figuratively. Those children really wouldn't be coming back. He'd heard that the unsidhe fed off of the darker feelings of children, but he'd hoped that the rumors of their occasionally taking flesh had been exaggerated. Clenching his jaw, he only had time to shout one spell before the fae lunged for him, a glowing wall forming around the tall man.

Scowling at it, the fae tapped on the wall, long nails leaving deep gashes in it before they healed up before his eyes. "Clever, little spirit. But you can't leave this spot and keep me trapped, can you?"

"I'll stay here as long as I have to!" he said, glaring at him through the wall. Already it felt like it was draining him. He couldn't keep it up forever. Albion just had to make the child thief think he could.

"Hm." The thief leaned casually against the inside of the wall, examining his nails and frowning as one cracked from being exposed to Albion's magic. Runt might be able to do more damage than he thought. "What if I made you a deal, little spirit?"

The offer surprised Albion, and he had to quickly re-tighten the spell as it threatened to dissipate in his shock. He knew faerie deals could be dangerous. Very dangerous. But was it worse than letting this creature escape? And he didn't have enough power to kill him, not without a lot of help and time that he didn't have. "...what kind of deal?"

"We both need your little children," the child thief said casually. "Obviously, you're rather protective of the ones in your precious villagers, but what about the ones that wander off and get lost? They're going to die in the woods anyway. We could live off that many, if we have to."

Albion narrowed his eyes, knowing better than to just trust the deal at face value. There was always a catch when dealing with fairies, even with his friends. "In exchange for what?"

"Clever child," the thief all but purred, cruel eyes looking over the young nation. Oh, what he could do if he could claim one of those. "I get to take something of yours. Not now, in the future. Something you will love dearly, hold close to your heart, and then lose. When it's lost to you, then I can claim it whenever it suits me. Do we have a deal?"

Something he'd lose? The part about loving it first made him worry, but to trade something he would lose first in exchange for what he desperately needed? Albion didn't see how he could refuse the deal. "Fine. It's a deal." Against his better judgement, he released the wall. As the child thief vanished with a laugh, he couldn't help but worry that he'd made a terrible mistake. But at least the children would be safe.

His little ones would be safe.


	2. Chapter One - Marked

_'Albion... Albion...'_  
  
Arthur groaned awake as the morning sun moved across his face, bits of a familiar dream lingering in the corners of his eyes like bits of sleep that needed wiped away. He took his time opening his eyes and sitting up, mindful to be quiet to keep from waking up the fairies still sleeping in various spots around his room. His eyes softened as he looked over them, his long-time friends who had always been at his side, even when the world had been burning around them.  
  
But the day wouldn't wait for him to linger there, and there was a meeting tomorrow that he was the host of. It was time to get to work. Caterers to confirm with, car reservation to check for himself, security to check in with. In addition to his usual work of course. He had a secretary, but these things he prefered to take care of himself.  
  
By the time he headed back up the walk in the afternoon, Arthur was feeling nicely accomplished. He'd finished the day's lot of paperwork and his errands already, and it looked like he would even have some extra time to sit and finish the book he'd been reading before starting dinner for himself. Of course, all of that was before he heard an all-too familiar voice calling out.  
  
"Hey, Artie!"  
  
If asked, he was going to claim, under oath of court, that it was pure instinct that had him spinning and punching the idiot heading this way. "You idiot! I told you not to call me that!"  
  
As if just to be as infuriating as possible, the younger nation just grinned as he rubbed his jaw where the punch had landed. "Why not? Sounds better than Arthur," Alfred said with a careless laugh.  
  
" _Arthur_ is a respectable name," Arthur growled, glaring up at him. So much for his good mood and peaceful afternoon. Which brought up another point. "Just what the hell are you doing here? The meeting isn't until tomorrow, and isn't at _my house_."  
  
"About that..." Alfred's grin turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "My boss has been riding me pretty hard about my spending, so I figured I could just crash here instead of paying for a hotel, right? You've got plenty of room since you live alone and all and I could even cook us breakfast before the meeting so you don't poison yourself cooking!"  
  
Fist clenched, the Brit's eye twitched as assumptions piled onto insults. He'd been about to clock Alfred another one when the American just started walking past him with a suitcase in hand. "Wait one second! I never said that I was letting you stay here!"  
  
"Yeah yeah whatever. Hey, do you have any coffee this time? And not that nasty instant junk you served me last time I was over," Alfred chattered, only stopping at the porch because the door was locked and he didn't want shot at like the last time he'd broken Arthur's door. Or the bill. Yeah, that was something he really didn't want to have to explain to his boss. "We should get take-out for dinner. Do you have Chinese take-out here?"  
  
"If you want coffee, you can get your own and have it in your hotel," Arthur grumbled, stalking up to the porch to unlock his door and shove it open. He tried to shut it behind him, but a foot held it open long enough for Alfred to slip in after him. "And I don't care what you eat, but I already have the ingredients to cook dinner with and that's precisely what I'm going to do."  
  
"Aw, but that means I've gotta smell your cooking for hours and to tell you the truth the turbulence coming over got me kinda queasy. Sure didn't help that I got crap sleep last night too. Really freaky dreams. Serves me right for having pepperoni pizza for a midnight snack, right?"  
  
That caught Arthur's attention as he hung up his jacket, barely catching Alfred's as it was tossed in the vague direction of the coat rack (or, really, him) to stick it on a hook as well. "Dreams. What kind of dreams?" Knowing Alfred, something about superheros and rocket ships, but with his own acting up he had to at least ask, right?  
  
Alfred kicked off his shoes and let himself fall back onto the sofa with a thump, shrugging his shoulders. "A weird one. Kinda reminded me of those silly stories you used to tell me as a kid, with all the make believe fairies and stuff."  
  
"I told you, those weren't make believe, they were tales of things that happened!" Arthur snapped with his usual temper, curiosity forgotten. He was sick and tired of people saying his fairy friends weren't real, and had been since Francis had first landed on his shores! There really couldn't be only three people with the sense to see them in this world. "Told directly to me from the fairies who were there."  
  
"Sure it wasn't the green fairy talking?" Alfred asked with a laugh as he put his feet up on Arthur's coffee table, letting out a little yelp and putting them back down again when a shoe was thrown at his head.  
  
Holding the other one up in threat, Arthur glared at him. "I wasn't drunk you git! If you're just going to sit there and insult me you can go find yourself a cheap hotel and save money that way. I don't have any desire to put up with being mocked in my own house by a brat like you."  
  
The American raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm the older nation down. "Okay, okay, I'll believe you believe in fairies, how's that? Calm down man. Old guy like you might put himself into a stroke if you get too riled up." When those eyebrows just twitched more, Alfred flashed him a smile. "So how about a movie until dinner time? I've got his new horror Japan sent me that I bet you'd love. Takes place on an old ship and everything."  
  
For all of his complaining, Alfred still ate more than half of the food that Arthur cooked, making faces throughout the meal but barely even pausing in shoving it into his mouth. He finished scrubbing up the dishes, keeping an ear out as his former colony chattered loudly on the phone to... Matthiew it sounded like. Better than that frog. So much for his quiet evening, but for all of his bluster Arthur wasn't sure he'd have been able to throw the idiot out. Damn attachment.  
  
"Hey Artie, I'm heading to bed!"  
  
"It's Arthur!" he shouted over his shoulder with a growl, scowling at the laugh that drifted in from the living room before feet pounded up the stairs like an oversized kid. Arthur sighed and scrubbed up the last pan, setting it on the rack to air dry overnight before going around to switch off his lights and walk up towards his room at a much more civilized pace.  
  
Opening his door, he had to stop and stare for a moment at the sight in the room, swallowing. Alfred had already shucked off his pants, back bent as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Arthur couldn't help the way his eyes moved down the well built spine until something caught his attention.  
  
"Alfred, how long have you had those marks?" Arthur asked, lips forming into a frown. When Alfred twisted to look at him, he pointed to the collection of small darkened shapes that spanned across the skin directly over the waistband of the (predictably) spangly boxers.  
  
The taller man turned to face away from the mirror in the room, head twisted around to see what Arthur was referring to. "Oh, those? Don't know really. I think I first noticed them back when Adams was president? Already had them checked out once though, so don't worry. They're nothing."  
  
Stepping forward to get a better look, Arthur resisted the urge to touch and find out for himself, (highly irrational and stupid) moment of less than brotherly interest behind him. "You didn't have them when you were little. I'd remember seeing something like that."  
  
"Careful Arthur, you sound like an old man, seeing cancer spots on everyone," Alfred teased, already done with the subject as he flopped onto the bed, claiming one side. "Come on, get undressed and switch the light off already. I'm going to need to sleep off that stuff if I'm going to be able to run the meeting tomorrow, and we don't need you crankier than usual!"  
  
" _I'm_ hosting tomorrow," Arthur reminded with a grumble as he grabbed his pajamas and stepped into his big closet to change with a little privacy. "If you're so tired just shut your eyes and go to sleep. With how often you've fallen asleep during meetings I don't buy that you need dark and quiet to do it."  
  
There was a snicker followed by a rustle of cloth, assumedly Alfred getting himself settled and probably stealing half more than of the blanket. Arthur shook his head as he finished getting dressed for sleep and headed for the bed, positioning himself on the other side of the bed and giving the blanket a good hard yank to get enough of it to wrap up in. Obviously Alfred was fine, and didn't need him fussing over stupid marks just because he hadn't seen them before.  
  



	3. Chapter Two: Puzzle

  
Lost Stars   
Chapter Two   
Puzzles

Arthur slept without dreaming, soundly enough that he didn't rouse when Alfred woke up and snuck out of the room. He might have peacefully slumbered until his alarm went off, if it weren't for the sudden flash of dread that shook him from sleep and into a cold sweat. For all that he only sensed it rarely, Arthur knew that feeling.

What were the winter fairies doing here? They'd retreated north the last he'd heard, driven from most of England by the protective spells he'd placed during the last great war and following the rush of children to the country in hopes that some would be lost. The move had been meant to protect his precious children from the bombs, but even so he knew that it'd resulted in a feast for the winter fairies.

But that knowledge didn't explain one bit why they were here _now_. Nothing was going on to lure them, no festivals of children or holidays to tempt them with the modern 'offerings' that his people didn't even know they were putting up. Nothing. All there was today was the dumb meeting, and he had it on good fact that Peter wasn't trying to sneak in this time. He'd be too busy fixing up his land after last week's storm. So why...

"Hey old man, up and at 'em!" Alfred said far too loud and far too cheerful for first thing in the morning as he stuck his head in the door, interrupting Arthur's line of thought as he grumbled and rolled over. "Come on, it's morning! And I've got breakfast going, so you'll actually have something edible to eat today. Old man like you shouldn't be eating toxic waste every meal, you know."

_That_ got him sitting up and glaring at his former colony from under thick eyebrows. "And just what is that supposed you mean, you git? There is nothing wrong with my cooking! You even used to like it!"

"That's because I didn't know any better back then," the American said, casually brushing off the fact. "You know how bad it is, you're just in denial. Remember when it made Feliciano cry back when?" He easily ducked the flying alarm clock coming towards his head, turning around with a wave to head back downstairs. "Come down before it gets cold, alright? No one likes cold pancakes, even you."

Growling (because gentlemen didn't sulk), Arthur waited for the infuriating brat to be gone from the room before he slid out from the bed and grabbed a fresh change of clothes before slipping into the shower. Just where did Alfred get off coming to _his_ house uninvited, using _his_ kitchen, and then insulting his cooking to top it all off?! Like he had any room to talk, when all his food tasted like grease, salt, and sugar. Arthur would rather eat Francis' food again than go to one of those 'greasy spoon' diners that Alfred was so fond of.

Alfred was just plating the food when Arthur wandered into the kitchen, fixing his tie so it'd sit straight. He was mildly surprised to actually see the kettle steaming, just a breath away from whistling. At least, he was until he spotted the jar of instant coffee he'd bought last time the other nation had crashed with him sitting on the counter. Ah ha. Obviously Alfred hadn't been planning on making him tea, just coffee for himself. Still, boiling water was boiling water.

"I see you decided that instant was good enough for you after all," he said with a snort, grabbing the kettle and switching off the gas from the burner before picking up a clean tea cup from the dish drainer to start making himself a cup.

The other took the kettle back to get water for his coffee (a somewhat sorry excuse for it, but if he wanted better he could buy it himself). "Ah, well I didn't feel like hunting down a coffee shop just now and then another one closer to the meeting. Besides, I already kind of braced my stomach for nasty things before coming here. You know, in case you brought scones to the meeting again."

"There is nothing wrong with my scones you bloody idiot!"

Of course, Francis noticed right away when they arrived together, particularly because Arthur hadn't gotten there before everyone else like he usually did. The romantic country raised a surprised eyebrow before leering at them with a smirk.

"You're later than usual _Angleterre_ ~ Were you finally teaching little _Amerique_ about little babies not coming from under cabbages?" he taunted, placing an overly earnest hand over his heart. "Poor boy should have come to _moi_ for such things, but must have been far too shy to approach the expert~"

"Bugger off, frog!"  
"Eat shit, Francis!"

What could have devolved into an explosive fight was interrupted by Ludwig's loud declaration that the meeting was about to start and that they could take time to argue _later_. Still grumbling, Arthur apology to the German, gathering his notes together and taking his place.

Being the host of the meeting this time, Arthur had the privilege of speaking first. Normally, that was something he looked forward to because it meant that his ideas were the first to be presented and therefore the first on everyone's minds. But this time he couldn't wait to finish his presentation and sit down, leaning back in his chair to let his thoughts return to what he'd felt waking up that morning.

Arthur had faced the winter fairies many times since he'd made the deal with the child thief. They were always looking for loopholes in the deal, looking for ways to claim children they didn't have the rights to, or to lure them out to get lost in the woods and the dark streets.

But they could _not_ get onto his personal property. They could _not_! Even the summer fairies that flittered about his gardens could only be there because he'd invited each of them _by name_. And he was the only one who could give the invitation, no one else. The only other way that a fairy could come around would be if something that belonged to them was brought, and Arthur certainly hadn't done such a thing.

So what had?

He sighed, ignoring the odd look that Alfred gave him. Arthur didn't want to do it, but there was only one thing left to do.

A call to his brother was in order.


End file.
